Shrouded in Silence
by ForciblySilent
Summary: All I want is to keep the ones I love close to me... Why is it they all seem to... die? OC!
1. My Sister is Gone

I set the comb down on a table next to Vanessa's hospital bed, and move back to my chair. She smiles her beautiful smile at me. "Thanks, Julia." She says hoarsely. Vanessa's voice has been weak all day today- more so than usual.

My sister has been sick since forever, but in the past few years it's gotten a lot worse. Only in the beginning of this year was she moved into a hospital. Years ago, when I was only three, the doctors diagnosed her with something called a "terminal illness", whatever that means. It's not contagious, and Vanessa promises me she'll get better soon, so I have nothing to worry about. Right?

"Hey, Jules?" With just that, my older sister has my undivided attention. She's smiling, her blue eyes seeming both cheerful and yet tired at the same time. "Would you sing for me?" She asks. Vanessa says I have a beautiful singing voice, and asks me to do this a lot. It's silly, but my sister is kind, and I love her more than anything in the whole wide world. So I grin at her and start to sing.

It's a song Vanessa loves, and soon she joins in, her shaky voice harmonising with mine perfectly. We sing together in peace for a few minutes, and then Vanessa coughs, hard. For once she doesn't get a chance to cover her mouth, and a glob of blood shoots out, staining her bed sheets. Vanessa keeps coughing, her handkerchief now clamped firmly over her mouth. I falter in my singing. This isn't the first time this has happened, but the sight of her blood has shaken me. Something's different about this attack. Her coughs are harder, deeper, and they don't die down.

I stop singing and rose to my feet, meaning to go get a doctor, but Vanessa gives a wave of her free hand. "No- I'm fine- continue." She says between coughs, and so I sink back into my seat and keep singing, rubbing her arm comfortingly. I feel a tingling heat between my eyes, and resist the urge to cry.

I'm not sure how long Vanessa continues to cough, but it feels like forever. Her whole body shakes with the force of her coughs and she barely gets the chance to take breaths. I feel a pang of worry for my sister. Then, all of a sudden, her coughs stop. Her arm falls to her side. The handkerchief slips out of her hand and lands on the floor with a splat, now entirely soaked through with blood.

My singing comes to a halt. "Vanny?" I ask. I'm surprised at how small and fragile my voice sounds. Vanessa doesn't respond, and my heart misses a beat. "Vanny?" I repeat, and move to look her in the eye. Vanessa's eyes are open, but they're glassy, fogged over. Lifeless. "Vanny?! VANNY!" I scream, as the truth hits me with a cold, brutal sense of reality. I sling my arms around Vanessa's neck and sob, holding onto my sister's corpse for dear life. "Vanny, NO!" I cry.

That's when the doctors come rushing in. One grabs me by my shoulders gently and starts to pull me away from Vanessa. "No, NO, that's my sister!" I scream, struggling against his firm grip. "That's my sister!" I bite his hand and he lets out a yelp of pain, releasing me. I hug Vanessa again, my body shaking with tears. Two more men grab me, rough now, and drag me out of the room.

My sister is dead.

This is so unfair! I'm seven- she's only 12! People aren't supposed to die until they're old! She didn't get to do anything- she's been bedridden for the past two years. It's not fair to her. How could this happen?

The doctors take me to an office. I collapse at a table, resting my head in my arms as I cry. A nurse approaches me and tries to offer me comfort. I visit often, so it's not hard for her to recognise me. "Don't cry, Miss Julia." She says, offering me a tissue. "Vanessa's in a better place now."

"She's in no place!" I yell, angered by her words. "She's dead! She's dead, and it's all your fault! Can't you stupid doctors do anything?!"

The nurse doesn't say anything. She just hugs me tightly. "Oh, poor baby. I'm so sorry." She whispers.

Eventually, of course, I do manage to stop crying. The nurse keeps me company for the next five painful hours, until finally my parents arrive. For once they have been called and asked to pick me up- usually I just sneak out and walk home alone. "Come along, Julia. It's time to go home." My mother says. Her voice is clipped and formal, as though she's speaking to a stranger, rather than her own daughter. I rise to my feet and cast the nurse a final look and wave goodbye.

On the ride home, my mother and father discuss Vanessa's funeral as if it's nothing- as if it's normal for your twelve year old daughter to die. As if it's ok not to care. It's so horribly wrong. Why don't they care?! I think angrily, sitting in the backseat and staring out the window.

That's when I realise that it's up to me to bring Vanessa back. And I know just how to do it, too.


	2. I Make the Mistake of My Life

**Honestly? **

**...**

**I've had this written out on paper for weeks. XD about a month or so. **

**I just had to type it. **

**And now I have :D **

**So here you pooples go. :D Enjoy! **

It's been two years exactly, as of today, since Vanessa died. I'm nine years old now and I know what "terminal illness" means. Today is the day I will bring Vanessa back from the dead. I'm going to use human transmutation to do so.

I've developed my plan over the years. I've collected all the chemical necessities for the body of a twelve year old girl, and I've had a doctor take my blood. It's a whole pint, and I'm hoping it'll be enough for her soul. I doodle my transmutation circle for the billionth time in my notebook, and my teacher yells at me to pay attention. This is science, though. I don't need to pay attention.

At long last school comes to an end, and I run home as quickly as I can. Once I get there, I start clearing away all the furniture in the living room, making a giant space where I can draw my circle. Then I do so, making the circle as carefully as I possibly can, and all in chalk. Next I set the pile of mush that will become Vanessa's body in the centre of the circle, and around it on six points I divi up the pint of blood. Finally I send up a prayer that this works, and activate my alchemy.

Something- something's gone horribly wrong! My left arm- it's gone! It's simply vanished! I clutch it in pain, biting back fear-filled tears. What was that thing I saw? That huge door, that thing- all of it! A smoke obscures my vision, but slowly it begins to dissipate. I look up, filled with a sudden hope. Did I succeed? The smoke clears, and I see the most horrifying thing I could ever imagine.

What is that thing?! It pulsates slightly, a fleshy, bloody mess. It looks almost similar to a person's organs, feebly trying to function without a safe container. It's grotesque. A fresh wave of sick dizziness washes over me at the sight, and I start heaving.

When I've gained control over my body again, I attempt to stand, but immediately crash back down. I've lost too much blood- I can't hold myself up. I have no choice but to wait and hope that someone finds me in time.

I failed. It didn't work. I failed to bring back my sister. Tears brim in my eyes as I lay there helplessly in a puddle of my own blood, before suddenly everything goes dark.

Beep! Beep! Beep! The heart monitor is the only sound in my room. Wait, heart monitor?! My eyes snap open and I jerk up into a sitting position. A blood drip tugs in my right arm. I'm in a hospital bed. How did I get here? I turn to look over at the door, on my left side, and freeze.

My left arm is gone. All that's left is a pathetic stump, which has been bandaged tightly. Thick, hot tears slide down my cheeks as the memories of my mistake all slam back into my brain.

"Oh, good, you're up." The woman's voice is sudden. I look up at her, startled. It's the nurse who'd comforted me the day Vanessa died. She gives me a small, sympathetic smile. "Dry your eyes, Miss Julia. Can you tell me what happened?"

I try to tell her. I really do. But for some strange reason, I can't speak. However hard I try, sound refuses to pass my lips. What's going on?! I try again to speak, my cheeks turning red. The heart monitor's beeping spikes suddenly. Then the nurse places her hand on my left shoulder. I stop and look up to see that she's smiling that sad smile again. "It's ok, Miss Julia. You don't have to tell me." She says, and walks away.

I try to call her back, but I can't even do that. I can't speak at all anymore, and I can't understand why.

"Oh, Julia, you're ok!" Suddenly I'm wrapped up in a warm, right embrace. I sink back in the bed, staring down, my mind racing. At first I hope it might be my parents visiting me, but I quickly banish the thought. These are their working hours, and I doubt they'd take off just to see me. I look up nervously at the two figures that have just entered my room.

At first I dare to hope that it might be my parents, but I quickly banish that thought. I doubt that even in a case like this they'd bother to take time off of work to see me. My vision focuses in on the people.

It's my next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Heymour. They're a friendly couple, and back when Vanessa used to have regular check-ups at the hospital, she'd have them watch over me. I've known them for as long as I can remember. I turn away. I can't talk to them, and I hate knowing I've worried them.

The couple asks me a few questions, like how I'm doing and what happened, but when I don't answer, they eventually give up and leave. I miss the company, but at the same time, I'm glad I don't have to see them so upset anymore.

Hours later, my parents visit. They don't say anything to me at first. They just stand there in the doorway, speaking in hushed tones. I strain to listen in, but only manage to catch small snatches of their conversation. "… embarrasing… so many questions… the bills, Arthur…" It bothers me that I can't figure out exactly what they're saying.

Are they worried about me? As much as I'm ashamed to admit it, the thought causes a glimmer of hope to bubble up inside of me. I can't remember the last time my parents worried for me or Vanessa. They're both doctors, so their work takes up most of their thoughts.

Finally, my parents approach me. "What did you do, Julia?" My father asks bluntly. "Was it that damned alchemy?"

I stare up at him dully, incapable of speech. His jaw is tense; his eyes hard. He's mad about something. Did I really do something that bad? "You selfish little girl; you cause all this trouble and you won't even tell us what you did?!" He snaps at me.

Selfish? I'm… selfish? I never thought about it like that. I suppose it was selfish of me to want to bring Vanessa back from the grave, but…

"Won't you say anything? You need to tell us what you did. You made a mess of my living room!" My mother interrogates now. "What was that… _thing? _What were you trying to create?"

Again, my response is nonexistent. My mother's expression grows as stony as my father's. "Forget it. You're not going to tell us anything." Her words dig into me like knives. And then she's gone, walking briskly away as though this was nothing more than a business trip. My father follows her.

And I'm alone again.


	3. Automail?

**So anyways, I want to thank my lovely reviewers. Handy, you're awesomesauce. **

**And stranger, you're awesomesauce! Someone's actually reading my stories! **

**Anyways, I should totally warn you. **

**This story is the most depressing thing you've ever laid eyes on. **

**PROCEED WITH CAUTION. **

Months later, I'm finally let out of the hospital. My arm has somewhat healed; the stitches have closed up and I don't need to wear a bandage anymore. I've been diagnosed with PTSD—the doctors say I'll start talking again eventually, but I'm in shock right now. They're wrong, of course. I simply don't have the ability to talk anymore. Whatever that white _thing_ was, it ruined me.

My parents pick me up and drive me home. I'd rather walk, but instead I have to sit in the back of the car as they talk amongst themselves about hospital bills, completely ignoring me. If Vanessa were here, she would have poked me until she got me to lighten up, and engage me in a conversation that had no real importance. Somehow, she always knew how to help. Obviously I didn't… all I knew how to do was to make a mess of things.

Eventually, of course, I do get into a new routine. It's hard living with only one arm, but I manage to teach myself how to cook and clean and everything else that needs to be done to live. It doesn't matter much. My parents come home at around midnight every night and leave for work no later than five in the morning. It's more than I used to see of them—they used to sleep in the hospital's staff room, so that they were always on hand for the patients. Maybe they really do care, in some weird sense.

After long months of living as an amputee pass, my parents finally start to talk about getting me some automail. They debate everything from cost to who to call, and not once do they come to me about it. I don't mind. I hope they choose to get the automail, and then finally, they do. It's my mother who tells me one night, in that clipped, formal tone she has. Apparently they've called an automail engineer for me, who's agreed to come to our house for a small extra fee. I'm to get automail, at long last. Maybe I could even learn sign language, and then I could finally communicate again.

I spend the day of the engineer's arrival cleaning the house. My parents are working—I am to be alone with the engineer when I get my automail. I'm excited, though extremely nervous as well—this is the first time I will be around someone other than doctors that I didn't know since I lost my voice. I have no idea what this stranger will think of me, and it sets me on edge.

Suddenly there's a sharp knock on the door. That must be the engineer! I run up and open the door. A large man walks in. He's at least twice my height and very menacing, with cold grey eyes and a set jaw. He looks around the room, and then down at me. I'm almost scared by how unwelcoming he looks, and then he says, "So who am I outfitting today?"

Immediately I pause. _He's joking, right? He has to be. I'm missing an arm; isn't that kind of obvious?! _I look up at him and see that he seems completely serious. I feel my cheeks heat up and I point at myself with my thumb slowly. I can't help but wince when the man's face turns red and his expression goes from dismissive to angry.

"_You? _You're joking! _Look_ at yourself! You can't possibly be over seven!" He snaps brutally. I feel my cheeks heat up and I open, close, and re-open my fist, in an attempt to tell him that I'm ten, not seven. He doesn't seem to understand me—not that I blame him—and continues his speech. "I mean, seriously. "I mean, seriously, a weak little girl like you couldn't possibly handle automail. Come back when you're a little older." He says in a voice that's ice cold. Then he walks back out the door, slamming it behind him.

I collapse into a chair, too shocked to even hold myself up. I know I'm weak, but am I really too weak for automail? I can't possibly be—I need automail! How could I ever go without it? I can't walk around single-handed for the rest of my life!

Apparently, the automail engineer calls my parents while they're at work. They come home exhausted, as usual, and barely cast me a second glance as they go eat the leftovers from the meal I cooked earlier today. "You're getting automail when you're sixteen." My father tells me in between bites. "You can wait seven or eight more years." _Six. I'm ten. Shouldn't they know this?! _

At any rate, there's no way I could possibly wait that long. I can't take this sitting down. It's not fair. I need automail; I can't stand feeling so useless.

I make my decision then. I've been debating for a while now whether or not I should do this, but now I've been left with no choice. I'm going to Rush Valley, even if I have to walk there. The people in that town are known for their automail; I'm sure to find someone who would be willing to outfit a ten year old. So I wait, and eventually my parents go to sleep. I take some food, and money. When I head out, I'm confident that I'll find a way. I'll take care of myself, just like I know Vanessa would have wanted.


	4. City Girl

**to the stranger reviewer: I know I said it got depressing... yeah, no lol, the last chapter wasn't even close to depressing. Trust me, sweetie, it only gets worse from here. **

**At any rate, Thank you so much for reading and my apologies for the slow updates, everyone! I love you all! **

I don't know what I quite expected, in the beginning. I just know it certainly wasn't this. I've been on the streets for about a month now, and I've only just reached Central. At this rate, I have no idea when I'll reach Rush Valley, and that's a scary thought.

I've already run out of food, and my money's dwindling as well. I have to find a way to restock my supplies, but I don't know how. I can't go to any adults for help, because they might try to send me back home, and mute and alone, I'm absolutely useless.

I kind of wander the streets aimlessly that first day, heading south at a slow pace. Central's a big city, so I know it'll take me a weak at the least to get through it. That's ok, though. I've never been in a city before—my hometown is rather small—so it's nice to see this. It's so incredibly busy and big, and kind of smelly too. I can't help but wonder what it's like for the people who live here, going to schools twice the size of my old one, taking one of the tons of jobs, crossing Central Command every day and seeing state alchemists out on the streets…

Vanessa and I had planned to become state alchemists together. She'd promised me that as soon as she got better we'd pack up and move here, and start a better life together. It was my dream when I was younger, but now I know she was lying. That's ok, though. She needed her dreams, too, and I don't blame her for wishful thinking.

The day passes slowly. I'll admit, I spend more time than I should watching people go by and kind of daydreaming. When dark comes, however, I find a park bench and lay down, trying to make myself comfortable and planning on sleeping here until I can find a better place to stay. Soon enough, I manage to fall asleep.

-.-.-.-.-

"Hey! Hey, wake up!" Someone's shaking me roughly. I sigh and open my eyes blearily to see a girl shaking me awake. She can't be older than sixteen, with dark red hair and grey eyes. She's tall and wears a white-and-orange striped shirt, along with shorts and tennis shoes. She stands over me and puts her hands on her hips. "Are you trying to get yourself hurt?" She asks suddenly.

I blink at her question, wondering what she means. Then I shake my head slowly. Of course I'm not trying to get myself hurt.

She sighs, and in the light of a streetlamp I can see her rolling her eyes. "Welll then, what are you sleeping on a park bench for? Don't you realize that's dangerous?" I guess something in my expression must give her her answer, because even though I don't say anything, she gives another exasperated sigh. "C'mon, I'll take you somewhere safer."

I blink slowly and nod, getting on my feet. Immediately she takes a sharp breath. "Damn." She whispers, almost reverently. "What happened to your arm?"

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I know that even if I could I wouldn't answer her. We stand there awkwardly for a few minutes before she sighs yet again. "Follow me." She turns on her heel, and I follow her as she walks quickly through the streets.

She leads me to an alley between two houses, behind both of which is a thin space where one could easily walk through without being noticed. She turns to me and grins. "This is the kind of place you want to sleep if you live on the streets, girl. Out of sight but with more than one exit."

I nod and she sits down against a wall, patting the space beside her and stretching out her long legs. "C'mon, you need to sleep." She says cheerfully. All I can do is not and sit next to her as she pulls a thin, moth-eaten blanket over us. I sure hope I know what I'm getting myself into…


End file.
